


whisper of the heart

by Blepbean



Category: Jurassic World: Camp Cretaceous (Cartoon)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, Fluff, Ghibli AU, Love Confessions, M/M, Mutual Pining, Whisper of the Heart AU, anyways theres also background yasammy if u squint, bye i like barely proofread this and its 2 am
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:54:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28958262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blepbean/pseuds/Blepbean
Summary: Ben is a massive bookworm, Kenji is the rich-kid who spends his time outside school inside his grandpa's antique store. When they meet, the both of them sparks a sort of motivation for their future, and for each other.Ben pauses, staring at Kenji. His focus is there again, lips in a thin line and his eyes squinting at the violin. The way that he plays, he makes it look so effortless, like a breeze in a field of grass. His music is unapologetic and soft. If Kenji is a work of art, then he can see the individual strokes of paint, the way that he moves his bow or how he turns his lips into a smile.“You staring at me?” Kenji teases, “go, I thought you knew this song by heart.”
Relationships: Kenji Kon/Ben Pincus
Comments: 6
Kudos: 26





	whisper of the heart

**Author's Note:**

> ok so like this is the au from the ghibli movie whisper of the heart (plz go ahead and like watch that rn tf it's so good) anyways i had to cut away a lott of stuff and condense this alot and uhh idk, 
> 
> kudos, comments and feedback is appreciated

_ I know too well that you’re disappearing like the wind, but let me tell you something first. I can’t quit you, I don’t know why but…. I can’t. It’s strange, how you are so blissfully unaware of how you creep up into my daily activities. The smell of peppermint, or the colour of red and blue. It’s you. It always leads to you. _

===

Ben runs down the flight of stairs down the street, huffing. He keeps a tight hold of his tote bag he’s holding, fully aware that if he drops the lunch that he’s delivering, it’ll turn into an ugly stain on the street. But his mind is also whirring a thousand thoughts, about the song that he wrote, which Yasmina told him was weirdly similar to  _ Country Roads _ .

Whatever.

But the other thing is bugging his mind too, about yesterday. The book that he borrowed, it’s cover felt familiar against his palm, though the layer of dust felt foreign. Then the name on the dedication card, written in sweet cursive. It wasn’t done in a rush, it was poignant, almost as if it came from a fairy tale.

It said  _ Kon _ .

And that boy that read the book when he came back to get it from the bench, he tries to fish for details of what the boy looked like when he turns the corner. He doesn’t know his name, but he’s seen him around before. He usually walked around with no care, not thinking about his actions. Everyone knows him as the aloof kid, dressed up in riches who always flirts with everyone.

It was there, all of  _ that  _ was there. But for a moment, he remembered that there was shock on his face, eyes the colour of the deepest ground searched him, calculated and confused. But it soon disappeared, he teased him about his song.

Goddamn  _ Concrete Roads _

He even walked with him.

He shakes the thoughts awake, pulling his plain white tote bag closer to him. He woke up in a rush this morning, and for a moment he looks at himself in the reflection of a random mirror on the sidewalk. The wind picks up, rustling his hair. He smoothes out the creases on his jeans and the baggy blue graphic t-shirt that Yasmina made him get because  _ apparently  _ his closet looked like her grandpa’s.

He hates it.

But the white shoes that he has on sort of fits him.

He adjusts the strap on his shoulder and runs to the train station, making it just in time as he sits down on the chair and sighs. Nerves run through his veins, he  _ hates  _ public transport. But a part of him loves seeing it from a distance, seeing the people board it with different lives and different places. The businessman texting. The old couple who look like they’re still in their honeymoon phase.The mother that’s heading home after a shopping trip.

The train smells like peppermint, just like his room. It’s full of books, bookshelves neatly organised towers over his bed. He would light a candle that smells of peppermint everytime he would start a book. It’s his place, his comfort, along with snacks and his hand sinister it’s what grounds him.

He looks at his feet. The corner of his eyes picks up on the cat with grey fur and pointed ears, it jumps up on the empty seat next to him and looks at him.

Really looks at him.

“Hey,” he says quietly. 

The cat doesn’t respond.

He awkwardly coughs and bounces his knees. 

The announcement echoes throughout the train and the cat stretches, before jumping back down on the floor. It looks at him, eyes in the sunlight turning into a myriad of colours, like stained glass. It bears into him, almost as if it’s speaking to him without mumbling another word.

The door opens and the cat walks into the platform. There’s this tug in Ben’s chest that takes over him, he quickly steps out of the train and follows the cat through the crowd. When he exits the train station, he doesn’t even realise he wound himself up in the city. A sense of fear and nerves wrecks him when he looks above.

Too many big buildings.

Noise blurs out everywhere.

He bites his lip and his eyes find itself back into the cat, who’s walking through the crowd. Ben follows it, slowly venturing into the more deserted places of the city, where barely any cars drive by. Houses slowly creep back in and trees flush with green pop back in, swaying in the wind and casting long shadows on the ground.

“Where are you taking me?” Ben mumbles.

The cat simply meows back at him before the both of them turn the corner. It yawns, before jumping on the flat surface of the mailbox. It lays there, blinking its eyes at Ben before jumping on top of the fences, waving its tail at the dog to rile it up before jumping back on the ground.

And steps inside an antique shop.

Ben, who’s blindly following his curiosity, steps just outside the green doors of the shop. It’s quite daunting, the sudden drop of silence and the grand furniture inside.

He closes his eyes and steps in.

And when he opens it, colours bloom at his face.

There’s many furniture here that’s dazzled with diamonds and pearls, vases on top of a mahogany desk that holds crystalised roses. There’s a boat on a bottle to his left, and he nearly walks into a statue of a horse. A grand, but small chandelier with candles casts a soft glow at everything here. To the tiny dollhouses and all the way to the grand oak desks.

It feels like if he touches anything, it’ll turn into dust.

He keeps his hand to himself, but his eyes catch the attention of a small humanoid cat in a suit. It’s about the size of his hand. It sits on the round table, it’s eyes like pools of honey.

He carefully sets down his tote bag next to it and stares into his eyes.

He feels this strange feeling ebb and flow through him, like the chill of a wind.

“Are you that cat that led me here?” Ben huffs at the statue, looking around the store again until he catches someone on a step ladder a few feet away from him, the legs wobbling as he goes to fix a grandfather clock.

“Watch out!” He yells.

It comes out of his mouth a bit too soon.

He turns around, and it’s the boy from before. The boy that got his book on the bench and walked all the way home with him. There’s a split of a second, when he locks eyes. Blue meeting brown, like sapphires deep into the underground, or the very oceans carving itself into the earthen cliffs. He wears a red bomber jacket, underneath a white t-shirt tucked into blue jeans. 

  
He even cuffs his jeans.

And he has those  _ stupid  _ pretenious air forces on.

“Hi!” The boy waves, “you’re that guy that—”

—he falls flat on the ground before he could say anything. The grandfather clock wobbles, then steadies. Ben sighs a relief before he walks close to him, feeling a spark of warmth when he helps him get off the ground.

“Are you okay?” Ben asks, “you could’ve gotten hurt!”

“You sound like my grandpa,” he says, running a hand through the strands of his loose curls of his hair, “he uh… owns this place. Cool, right?”

“Yeah, cool,” Ben breathes out, “what were you doing with the clock?”

He shrugs, “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean I don’t know?”

The boy makes a face at him, “I mean… that I don’t know?”   
  


Ben sighs, then looks back up to the grandfather clock. It’s wood looks glossy in the sunlight, he watches as the clock strikes noon, a loud bell echoes throughout the store. 

Then it hits him.

“Oh crap,” Ben says, suddenly realising where he has to go, “which way’s the library?” 

“Dude,  _ chill _ ,” the boy says, “down the left, why are you in a rush?”

“Can I come back soon?”   
  


The boy shrugs. Ben takes it as a yes. Soon he’s out the door, feeling the earth pound underneath his feet and the air stinging his eyes. He didn’t mean to stay that late, he didn’t mean to be side tracked. The antique store enchanted him, it felt like it was the place where stories spun into life.

Maybe he could use some of them for his stories.

A smile creeps on his face. 

When he steps into the front of the library he pauses, catching his breath before he hears someone calling his name. It’s the boy from the antique store, riding down the hill with a bike before braking at the right time.

“How do you know my name?” Ben asks. He shrugs, before petting the cat on his bike, “is that your cat?”

“I don’t care about your stupid questions,” the boy says, “take your stupid tote bag, you almost left it back there.”

Ben looks at his shoulder, expecting it to be there.

It’s not.

It’s in the boy’s hands. Ben awkwardly takes it, “sorry.”

“Whatever, it’s chill,” the boy says, he turns his bike around before he starts to pedal up the hill, “you sure do eat a big lunch!” He yells, Ben can hear the smile on his face.

“It’s not mine!” He yells back.

The boy only responds back with a laughter that sounds so… free, it’s like air breezing through the forest, lifting up the leaves and bringing it alive. There’s something about that boy that Ben can’t quite put his finger on, he’s an enigma, a strange puzzle or story plotline that he can’t quite figure out.

Why would that boy help him?

===

_ I don’t think I can quit you. Because you’re there. Always there in every step that I take you take hold of my thoughts and spin them into something that is close to rose tinted, I want to see the hidden depths of you, your secrets. _

===

“I don’t like her,” Yasmina says as they walk through the school hallways, “she’s just a friend.”

“I wasn’t even saying anything,” Ben hums, adjusting the three books and notebook that he’s carrying, “what’s her name again?”

“Sammy,” she mumbles. When Ben turns to face her, she’s turning her face to look at the bulletin board, flyers for the sports club and announcements already up on the board, Ben sighs as they turn the corner.

“Where are we going again?” She asks.

“This book… I saw a name on the dedication card,” Ben starts, “I’m asking the teachers if they know someone called  _ Kon _ .”

He feels Yasmina quickly grabbing his arm, he yelps. She’s strong from all her time in the gym and at the track team, she’s competed with a torn ACL before, through the snow and ran around the school fifty times for practise every single day. Nothing can break her wavering determination. Nothing can surprise her.

Except now.

“You mean Kenji Kon?” Yasmina says, “he’s the leader of the track team—the idiot barely runs and can stay because his dad supplies the school with money.”

  
“Who?” Ben says, he pulls away from Yasmina’s grip and rubs his raw wrist, “I’ve never seen him.”

“The guy that always flirts with everyone and the rich kid, ring a bell?’

It takes a while to process, but when he does it all clicks. 

“Speaking of the devil,” Yasmina says.

There he is, walking in the hallway with a grin on his face. There’s something specific about the way he dressed himself today, like he’s effortlessly thrown his outfit last minute. A clean, nike blue sweater over baggy grey sweatpants, he even put his hair into a ponytail. 

He passes Ben without saying anything.

Ben grits his teeth, “he ignored me, the nerve.”

“He’s a jerk,” Yasmina says, putting her hand on her shoulder, “come on, let’s meet with Darius.”

“And Sammy?”

She playfully bumps him on the shoulder.

Their friend group is the size of three, and it’s strange how they somehow formed. Yasmina and Ben stuck together throughout classes, enjoying each other’s company when it comes to reading and drawing. Somehow, Darius rolled in last year when they had to work together in a project.

  
Darius pushes and urges for them to take a step, while Yasmina is always one step ahead of them. Meanwhile Ben keeps them steady.

And their friend group is now up to four. Ben wonders how Sammy would fit into their dynamic. 

It’s unusual to hear the chirping of crickets in mid-spring, but Ben doesn’t mind it. He used to hate the outside, the grass underneath his hands and the too-bright sky that spans like an endless sea. The sun too, that beared down on him as sweat stuck his back and shirt together.

He doesn’t mind it now. It helps him write.

They meet Darius and Sammy underneath the shade of the tree, near the edge of the oval. Darius has his usual smile, a stack of dinosaur books already next to him. Meanwhile Sammy is opening up the container, steam rises and reveals a fresh batch of cookies.

“Oh hi ya’ll!” Sammy says, “I hope ya’ll don’t mind these cookies, I had food studies last period. And I was so nervous because I didn’t know where to meet you a lot!” Her eyes, it sparks with joy with the same gem as Darius. 

Yasmina weakly smiles, shyness creeping up in her. The both of them sit down on the grass.

“We had to walk past Kenji,” Ben starts, putting his pile of books on the ground next to him, “why didn’t he pay any attention to me?”

“Probably because he’s the quiet pining type,” Darius takes a cookie from the container, softly blowing on it, “under all of that bad-boy-flirting-chill type is a soft heart. It’s like out of a book, strangers to lovers, 300k words slowburn. Can’t wait for your boyfriend—”

“—he’s not my boyfriend,” Ben grumbles, “I just want to find out what he’s like.”

Sammy tries to contain her laughter. 

“You guys suck,” Ben says, folding his arms.

===

_ What type of smell would hit my nose when I wake up? Will it be the warm smell of earl-grey tea? Sweet and simple, warming up my lungs when I turn over? Or will it be something else, like bacon sizzling from the kitchen and wafting it’s way into the bedroom? _

===

Ben finds himself outside the antique store again, he sighs when he finds it’s closed. He came all the way out into the city to come back into the store. It’s been like this for two days straight.

He notices the cat that went on the train with him. It sits near the door, waving its tail lazily.

“Hi,” Ben whispers, sitting next to it. It yawns, eyes sparkling like topaz.

“Have you been shut out too?” Ben rummages through his tote bag, “are you hungry?”   
  


The cat turns it’s face away from him, “I don’t think you like me…” he trails off, staring out into the sunny street. There’s no one here, silence falls on him while he stares out into the bright sky. 

“Why do I even come here?” He turns to face the cat, who closed its eyes, “books don’t even excite me anymore. And the things I write often get thrown into the trash.”

He reaches out, hand hovering over the cat. He commits, rubbing it’s head as it purrs under his touch. He smiles, resting his chin on top of his knees.

“Hey!” Someone yells at him, the cat quickly stands up and walks away from him, jumping on top of fences and waving its tail at the dog. Ben faces him, quickly standing up while he adjusts his fanny pack. It’s Kenji, with his hands locked behind his neck. He’s wearing that red bomber jacket again, his hair hidden in a white bucket hat, suiting his cuffed white trouser and white vans.

He looks ordinary next to him. Brown shorts with an oversized white sweater. He was in a rush, okay?

“Nice fanny pack,” Kenji points out, “moon lets you pet him?”

“That’s your cat?” Ben points out, “he’s the reason why I found the store. I followed him. It’s like out of a storybook.”

“Yeah, he’s like… totally chill and all,” Kenji says, “why are you here?”

“I uh… wanted to come into the store to see the cat statue. Is your grandpa all right? The store’s been closed for two days straight. I just thought he’s sick and all.”

“Oh,” Kenji says, shoving his hands into his pockets, “nah, he’s fine,” he pauses, stretching his arms before walking away, “come, I’ll show you the statue.”

“Are you sure?” Ben starts, “I don’t want to—”

“—dude chill,” Kenji turns around, his smile on his face, “come!’ 

Ben follows Kenji through a wooden door, he closes it behind him. It leads to a set of stairs behind the store and a house, he stares in awe. From this distance, he can see almost all of the city. He feels like some sort of god, someone on top of the world. From here, the usual big, bulky squared buildings look small, like the size of his thumb. Greenery creeps in through the buildings.

It’s sort of scary. Like he’s in the sky. He swallows against his dry throat while he heads down the stairs, feeling his legs shake a little. 

They enter a room which looks to be like a workshop, with violins hanging on the ceiling, a set of instruments is lined up against the stairs that leads above, it looks like it’s been recently played. 

Ben follows him up the stairs and into the store. It’s the same as it looks, but in the late afternoon and curtains closed, everything here looks untouched, almost as if it’s been frozen in time. 

“My grandpa was repairing it the day that you came by when you forgot your lunch—”

“—it’s not my lunch.”

“I know,” Kenji says, he looks at him, eyes full of joy and laughter when he smiles. Something warm swims through his body, Ben doesn’t know why. He watches Kenji line it up with the slit of sunlight that streams through the curtains. The small statue of the humanoid cat in a suit sits on top of the desk, it’s eye’s light up, turning into a million stars that sparkles. It’s eyes look glossy, it feels like it’s staring right back at him.

“He doesn’t plan to sell it,” Kenji starts, “I don’t know why. I thought I would know from how much time I spend here, away from my stupid house but…” Kenji sighs, “I’ll be downstairs, you can stay here for as long as you want.”

He watches Kenji descent downstairs before he sits down, staring into its eyes, already spinning a thousand stories in his mind. 

Five minutes soon turns into an hour, the sun slowly disappears and the eye turns normal again. He hears the faint sound of a violin playing, it doesn't sound like it’s coming from a radio. It sounds like a rush of air, it’s light and soft, and free. 

Ben follows the sound downstairs. He stops when he sees a peak of Kenji at the top of the stairs.

In the dimly lit room he stands in the middle of the room, the light directly on top of him. Sweat drips from his eyebrow as he slowly lets the bow run across the strings, creating a long humming sound. He doesn't look like Kenji who does nothing all day but walk around the hallways, or seem to be so aloof all the time.

His eyes are focused, unwavering. 

Ben realises he doesn't know Kenji to his full extent.

There’s an error in the note and Kenji swears, groaning to himself when he sets down the violin on the desk. 

“I know you’re there man!” Kenji yells out, stretching his arms, “come on, come out.”

Ben walks down the flight of stairs, Kenji wipes the sweat off his forehead. 

“You play?” Ben says, clasping his hands together while he walks into Kenji’s space, “I didn’t know that you played! I thought that you were—”

“—some rich kid that slacks in school and his track team,” Kenji says, eyes bashful as he places the violin and bow on the desk.

“I mean you do from what I’ve heard from Yasmina,” Ben says.

“Well… she’s right,” he sighs, “but it’s different this time.”

“Can you… can you play again?” Ben asks.

“Huh?” He sees red on his cheeks, “no way.”

“But you sounded so good!” Ben says, walking to desk and staring at the violin, then looking out into the open window. In the distance, the city lights twinkle different colours while a gust of wind slips into the room, rustling the paper on the desk.

“Fine,” Kenji groans, “but you’re singing,” he moves next to Ben, their shoulders touch as he takes the violin and bow into his hands.

“But I’m tone deaf!”

“Good,” he flat out says, but there’s a smile on his face, “can’t wait to hear you sing broski, you should know this one.”

Ben blankly stares at him when he first plays the few notes, he rubs his fingers together while Kenji plays, watching his fingers move with such ease.   
  
Then it hits him.

It’s  _ his  _ song that he wrote.

“Country road, this old road,” he croaks out, his throat not used to singing, “if you go right to the end. Got a feeling, it’ll take me. To that town, country road.”

Ben pauses, staring at Kenji. His focus is there again, lips in a thin line and his eyes squinting at the violin. The way that he plays, he makes it look so effortless, like a breeze in a field of grass. His music is unapologetic and soft. If Kenji is a work of art, then he can see the individual strokes of paint, the way that he moves his bow or how he turns his lips into a smile.

“You staring at me?” Kenji teases, “go, I thought you knew this song by heart.”

Ben quickly starts again, blush creeping up on his cheeks, “it doesn’t matter to me how sad I might be. I will never let a tear show in my eye…”

When they finish, Kenji looks at him with a soft look on his face. 

“What?” Ben asks.

“Nothing… it’s just that…” Kenji searches for words in his mind. But then he gets startled when he looks at the top of the stairs.

Ben follows his eyes.

“Grandpa! I’m so sorry I shouldn’t have let you anyone in I—”

“—please,” he says, stepping into the room with a smile on his face, he wears wrinkles on his face like a test of time, his beard white and thick, “what’s your boyfriend’s name.”

“I’m not his…”

“We’re not…”

They look at each other for a moment. 

“I better get going,” Ben says, “it’s getting late.”

“Yeah…”

Which is how they found themselves walking in the street in the middle of the night, the stars are out today, winking at them.

“I’m sorry about my grandpa by the way,” Kenji sighs, “he’s like that.”

Ben puts his hands behind his back, “no… it’s fine really. He must really care about you.”

“He does,” Kenji says, staring out into the sky, “he’s really the only ally I have in my family. My parents are against me going to Italy to study being a musician,” he puts his hands behind his neck, reeling in the night breeze.

“You’re going abroad?” Ben asks.

“Yeah, I uh… plan to anyway. It sound like a really stupid idea.”

“I don’t think it’s a stupid idea,” Ben says, above him the streetlight flickers, casting long shadows on the ground, “you’re talented.”

“Really?” Kenji asks.

“Yeah.”

They stop, Ben’s house is right there, with the lights still on. Ben fiddles with his fingers, trying to search for words to say. He’s a writer, a reader. He should have the vocabulary to turn his thoughts into full sentences. But he can’t, he’s lost for words for the first time.

“You’re good, you know?” Kenji says.

“At what?”

“At poetry… your song… it’s good.”

Ben meets his eyes, “oh… thank you.”

===

_ Back then, you were something else. I often stared at you from the other end of the room, but then I remember that specific day. It was spring. You wore your red bomber jacket that day, and you threw back your head when you laughed. I found it so endearing. I thought that you were the most incredible thing I’ve set my eyes upon, that if I let you get too close, it would set me on fire. . _

===

They stand on the roof of the school, looking overhead at the city. Kenji puts his hand on the railing, staring in awe. Meanwhile Ben feels his legs wobble, he grips the railing to steady himself.

“So you’re going to Italy, then?” Ben says. A gust of wind blows by and rustles Kenji’s hair, above the sky starts to clear, grey clouds making way for the spring sun to clear away the rain.

“Yeah, but they’re going to do a trial first. If I fail that… I’ll go back to school,” Kenji sighs, “but it’s cool.”

“You’re going soon?”   
  


Kenji nods, Ben feels his heart sink. 

“You know… I saw your name on the library cards like a few months back, you didn’t even pay attention to me every time we walked past in the library,” Kenji turns to look at him, his eyes turn into a bright, soft shade of brown, “I even sat next to you with you friends. I had… my friend Brooklynn helped me sit next to you that time. I had to get your attention somehow, so I read all the books so my name would be on the cards before yours.”

“Huh?” He says outloud, Ben looks well into the distance, biting his lip, “you didn’t have to do that.”

“But I did.”

“And you did.”

Behind him he hears a snicker, Ben quickly turns around and sees Darius and Sammy peeking out of the door.

“I saw you!” Ben yells. Next to him Kenji snickers.

Lunch quickly passes and they sit again under the shade of the tree, Ben hasn’t touched his food, he keeps staring at it. He lost his appetite a long time ago, stomaching down his lunch feels like a giant task that he can’t do. 

“You okay?” Sammy asks, “you haven’t touched your food. I’m sorry if you’re still mad at us I—”

“—it’s not that,” Ben heaves a heavy sigh, “it’s just that… he’s leaving soon. To go italy,” he lays down on the grass and stares out into the sky, “it’s like in every single book, the boy is leaving just as the girl is starting to fall in love.”

“Wait,” Darius blurts out, “you're in love with—”

“—anyways,” Sammy blurts in, “it feels like this is a wake up call for you. He’s talented, you told us about how he plays the violin and such, so maybe you should follow in his footsteps.”

A thought suddenly pops up in his mind, Ben quickly sits up, “I know, I’ll write a story! If he can do it, so can I.”

“But it’s exam time,” Yasmina cuts in. Sammy looks at her for a split of second, like they’re doing that gross thing where couples communicate to each other with just stares alone. It’s gross.

===

_ And you had the whole audacity with your whole being to trust me, and to get close to me. I thought we would burst into a pillar of flames, we turned into something else that I loved, almost like a warm hearth that staved away the cold. When you pulled me away from my important meetings or stopped me from thinking about the horrors outside these walls. You… you had the nerve to love me back. _

===

Ben knows what to write about. He’s already setting down the foundations of a grand world where magic is in every nook and cranny, even underneath his feet. Last night he even dreamed of the statue of the humanoid cat, and even the gemstone that Kenji’s grandpa showed him. It glowed like magic.

His story unfolded like something that is straight out of a fairy tale, he often stayed up late into the night with the lamp trained on his laptop as he wrote. Next to him, he has a stack of books that’s borrowed from the library. It ranged from old folklore, to greek mythology and all the way to ancient chinese history.

He has to get this done.

He sets down more books on the library table, sighing as he sits down on the chair. His mind is deep in focus, flicking through the different types of stone formation as he quickly copies them down.The grip on his pencil grows tighter.

His focus is broken when someone pulls a chair on the opposite side of him. When he looks up, his mouth gapes open.

“Kenji? What are you doing here?”

“I thought that I would find you here,” Kenji says, he breaks a smile at Ben when he leans across the tale, “I’m leaving tomorrow,” the way that he says it, he makes it out like a secret. 

It steals his breath away, Ben opens his mouth to speak, but pauses.

“It’s okay,” Kenji says, “I’ll wait for you here when you’re done.”

“I—” Ben starts, “I’m doing this, because of you, you know?”

“Writing?”

“Yes, you... inspired me.”

He smiles, his face bright like the sun. 

When he finished, it was late into the night. He dug his face into his shoulder, and a part of him didn’t want to let go. That, if he pulled him tighter, he wouldn’t leave, he would stay here and won’t go to Italy. 

He left anyway.

His writing is taking up other things in his life, he often stays up way too late and finds himself zoning out in classes. Yasmina keeps having to send him the notes for the classes since he hasn’t been paying attention. It’s even affecting his grades, it’s been declining that his parents got involved.

He managed to convince them that he can do better, but he didn’t say anything about the story he’s writing. It’s too personal, like pouring secrets into every depth of his words. They can’t know that he’s only writing it for Kenji, the story of two people that’s being pulled apart from a war that’s way too big for them, taken form of the humanoid cat statue that he found.

Now it’s midnight, a hush has fallen inside the house. Ben looks out of the window and into the starless night sky, he wonders what Kenji is doing right now. Would it be in the afternoon there? Or day? Would he see the same stars as he would right now, or would it be different?   
  


Does he know how much he’s sacrificed for this? This story, which feels so big that it doesn't even fit in his arms, but compared to everything, it’s minute and small. He shakes his head and starts to write the last few sentences.

_ But this, all of this was fleeting. So I apologise for letting the two of us even have spark with each other, and I don’t think I can bear the pain of leaving you behind. It won’t be a wound that heals through the passage of time, it’ll be restless, it’ll bleed into your favourite cardigan and sting with sorrow. I’m sorry. I have to go. _

**_The end_ **

He passes out and immediately wakes up the next day, all of it fully printed out and bound tightly inside his tote bag. He runs across the street, and soon enough he ends up knocking on the door of the store. He promises Kenji’s grandpa that he could read it first.

He opens it, “Ben?”

He takes it out of his bag, “I promised that you would be the first one to read it.”

He takes it like he’s carrying something fragile, his thumb strokes the title, “whisper of the heart…”

“I… I know that it’s a bit long but… can you read it? I can wait for as long as you can.”

He nods, smiling. He goes near the door and closes all the curtains, then flips the sign to say that it’s closed, “you can wait downstairs if you would like.”

Ben nods, his heart pounding while he ventures down stairs. What if he doesn’t like it? What if it’s not perfect? He bites his lip, expecting Kenji to be there on the desk, playing the violin with a smile on his face. Except… he isn’t there, it’s just a figment of his imagination. Him. Kenji. He somehow creeps on his daily thoughts.

He sits on the desk and sighs.

Soon he finds himself asleep, when he stirs awake he sees the Moon, the cat sleeping next to him. It’s already dark outside. The stairs creak when Kenji’s grandpa steps into the workshop, Moon hops back down on the floor and goes upstairs.

“I finished your book,” he said, flipping on the night, “it was good.”

Ben shakes his head, hoping off the desk, “it’s not good. I-I can’t have you saying this, half of the plot doesn’t make sense a-and the character development is all over the place.”

“It isn’t perfect,” he says, “but you just need to polish it. It’s like Kenji’s playing, once you polish it’ll be great.”

And those words feel heavy, he doesn’t know why, but it sends him over the edge. He feels himself tear up while he childishly wipes it away with the heel of his palm. He wanted it to be perfect, but it’s nowhere near it. Kenji… it’s like he’s slowly dwindling away from his view as he attempts to catch up to him.

“I only wrote it because of  _ him _ ,” he whispers.

He gives Ben a sympathetic smile, “you must like my boy?”

Ben nods, wiping away his last tears as he attempts to steady his face.

“Let’s head upstairs.”

Soon enough he has a cup of earl-grey tea in his hands while he sits in front of the hearth, next to him the statue of the cat sits next to him, behind him Kenji’s grandpa is fixing up a grandfather clock.

“Baron, that’s his name,” he says.

“It is?” Ben asks. He stares longingly into the hearth, watching the flames crackle.

“It’s rare, one of a kind. It has a companion that goes with it… but it’s companion got lost in the war.”

“Just like in my story,” Ben hums.

“I never found the companion again,” he says, there’s a sombre tone in his voice, “but your story… it brought my memory back to life.”

===

_ Dear love _

_ I wish there wasn’t a war. _

_ -Baron _

===

When stirs awake when he hears the sound of something thudding against his window, he groans, almost tripping over his blanket when he stands up. It’s still early in the morning, where the sun is starting to rise from the horizon, but everything is still coated in the midnight blue.

A breeze wafts its way into his room when he opens it.

“Down here!’

He looks down on the street.

Ben has to blink a few times before he realises that it’s real, that this isn’t a figmination of his yearning to come alive. Kenji’s there, sitting on his bike while he wears his red bomber jacket with rocks in his hands.

“What are you doing here?! Were you throwing rock at the window” He half-yells, “you’re gonna wake up the whole neighbourhood.”

“Do I look like I give a shit?” Kenji laughs— _ he’s actually here, laughing _ —and he waves at Ben, “I’ll keep yelling if you don’t get down here. Ben—”

“—okay, okay, I’m coming down.”

He finds himself bursting out of his room, tumbling over a rack of umbrellas in the process while he heads outside, putting on his shoes mid-run. Adrenaline and joy surges in his veins, he’s here,  _ Kenji’s  _ here. Writing the story wasn’t a complete waste of time.

  
When he turns the corner, Kenji is riding his bike, “hope on!” 

Ben sits on the small seat next to him, “where are we going?”

“No time to explain,” he takes his bomber jacket off, “here, you’re cold. Take it.”

“I can—”

“—it’s chill, really,” Kenji says, he starts to pedal, “we don’t have time, put it on.”

Ben takes it gingerly, holding it like it’s something precious. The fabric is soft under his touch, and it smells of a light perfume, not like those musky cologne from the store that hurts his nose but it’s soft… light, smelling like just extinguished campfire.

It’s unbelievably like Kenji. He wraps it around himself, it flutters in the wind when they head down the hill. Ben wraps an arm around him while using his other to secure the jacket. Tears sting in his eyes, he doesn't know it’s because of the air of it’s because of Kenji. 

He can touch him.

“You didn’t have to come back here.”

“I wanted to,” Kenji says, he stares at the mailman delivering letters, it’s strange to see the town that he lives in just before the night wittles away and day starts to unfreeze life, “I came back a day earlier.”

“I thought that I would never see you.”

“You can’t get rid of me that easy!”

They hill flattens, then they reach a flat land overlooking  _ everything _ . They hop off, letting the bike crash to the ground while Kenji walks up to the road railing.

“I wanted to show you this,” Kenji says.

Ben follows him, buttoning up his bomber jacket. Early morning-grey coats everything along with a thick fog, waiting for the sun to break through. It’s eerily pretty. It looks like the still sea. Behind him cars start to drive by, zooming past and creating a gust of chill wind.

“Just wait a second,” Kenji says, then he points at the horizon, “look!”

Ben sees it, the sun breaking through the haze of fog and clearing up the sky. Bright yellow and hues of oranges splits apart the sea of greys, letting colour spill in like paint.

“It’s beautiful,” Ben comments.

“I wanted you to see this,” Kenji says, looking over the edge and smiling, “I’m sorry that I left you.”

“It’s fine,” Ben says, “but you’re here now. Aren’t you?”

“I’m going to stay here,” Kenji says, “I thought about things and I want to finish high school first before I go abroad, What do you think?”

In the golden sunlight wind begins to pick up again, ruffling his hair. His face is brighter than the colour of yellow, Ben doesn't understand how it’s possible. Kenji smiles at him, and he forgets how to breathe for a second. This boy

“Ben?” Kenji tilts his head at him, frowning. Long shadows start to form on his face.

This boy is such a work of art.

He feels tears spring in his eyes. If not now? Then when? Ben chases this feeling, this surge. If he doesn’t think about it too hard, he can do it. Ben quickly pulls Kenji into a kiss.

He feels his whole body light up, full of warmth. His lips are soft underneath him, his mind is static, then quickly clears, taking in the fact that Ben’s  _ kissing  _ him. He’s here, not abroad in Italy where he’ll forget about Ben and become just another faceless memory but here, right here.

When he pulls apart, Ben pulls him into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry,” Ben says, flush on his cheeks, “I love you so much I just… I just thought that I wouldn’t see you again.”

Kenji chuckles. He hugs him tighter, enveloping him whole. Bright yellows envelop them in its warmth, casting long shadows on the ground. 

He feels so content with this.

  
  



End file.
